


Cheat Night

by yespolkadot_kitty



Series: Love Letters to Mr Cavill [2]
Category: British Actor RPF, Henry Cavill - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, baths and face masks, just fluff, night in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24428047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yespolkadot_kitty/pseuds/yespolkadot_kitty
Summary: You and Henry have a super-chilled night in.
Relationships: Henry Cavill/Reader, Henry Cavill/You
Series: Love Letters to Mr Cavill [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1767346
Comments: 2
Kudos: 63





	Cheat Night

HENRY: Let’s order in tonight. It’s cheat day.

YOU: Oh fuck me YES. Pizza? Wine?

HENRY: I assume the first one was also a request, to which I agree. :)

YOU: And a bath. At the same time as wine and pizza.

HENRY: I don’t know, sweetheart. Might drop the pizza in the bath and then it’s ruined.

YOU: Amateur. Everyone knows you get one of those tray things that sits across the bath to rest your pizza on.

HENRY: We have one of those?

YOU: We have two.

*****

In the end, you convince him that pizza in the bath  _ is  _ the best idea you’ve ever had (this week, anyway). You order the pizza downstairs, on the laptop - meat feast for you, four seasons for him - and when you head upstairs with the uncorked bottle of merlot in your hand, you push open the door to paradise.

Your favourite L’Occitane candles flicker enticingly on the bathroom shelf. Soft classical music plays, and the bath is steaming, the bubbles floating upwards scented with orange blossom. Henry is bent over the last candle to be lit, clad only in black boxers, and the image of him, so broad and ripped with those kind, bottomless blue eyes and those silky brown curls, makes your heart simply flip over.

“I was hoping to be done before you arrived,” he says sheepishly. “Oh good, you bought the wine.”

You offer the glasses and he sets them on the bathroom counter as you pour, the wine blood red and fragrant.

“Pizza will be about forty minutes,” you say, eyeing the bath and stripping off, leaving your clothes in a pile on the smooth, tiled floor.

“We’ll have to rock, paper scissors to see who has to answer the door,” he says cheekily, as his boxers join the pile of your clothes.

You grab him for a quick, hard kiss. He tastes of strong coffee and smells of cedarwood and clean soap, and his scent has always been addictive to you, stirring wildfire in your blood.

But tonight is about relaxing.

He helps you into the bath and then joins you, settling the wooden tray into position and standing the glasses on it.

“Cheers, Mr Cavill,” you propose.

“Cheers, Mrs Cavill.”

He reaches over the side of the bath and offers a thick wedge of a book, the latest from Peter Brett. “Here.”

“Oh my God, when did this come out?”

“Yesterday. I had it pre-ordered - knew you wanted it.”

It’s the little things like that, the thoughtful things, that make you fall in love with him anew most days. “Thankyou.”

He settles back in the bath. “Are you… grateful enough to get the pizza?”

“Cheat.” But you say it affectionately.

You sink into the book as the bathwater hugs you, keeping you warm, and when the doorbell rings thirty minutes later, you do get the pizza.

The smell of melted cheese and fried meat hangs heavy and delicious in the air as you shiver and sink back into the water, balancing the pizza boxes on the wooden over-bath tray.

“Once you go for a big bath, you can never go back,” you sigh, wiggling your toes, absently stroking them over Henry’s thigh.

He bites into his pizza and makes a noise you usually only hear when you swirl your tongue around his cock. “Oh, Christ, I love cheat day.”

“Me, too, ‘cause I get to hear you make  _ those _ noises. You’re so dirty, Cavill.”

He arches a brow as he swallows. “And who made me that way?”

You chat over your day as you eat, and half a pizza later, you’re stuffed, and your fingers are starting to prune up.

“I’m not ready for tonight to be over,” you confess as you close the pizza box.

“It doesn’t have to be. Single malt, shitty rom-coms and bathrobes?” Henry asks, and you laugh and nod. It’s great, being married to your best friend.

Henry wraps the big, thick bathrobe around you - purchased from the giftshop of a hotel in Vence whilst you were on honeymoon - and pauses at the bathroom cabinet. “Perhaps… facemask for the lady?”

“Do you just want an excuse to use my cocoa butter face mask?”

He does, and you say yes, of course you do.

Downstairs, Henry flicks through the Netflix offerings as you make some hot sweet tea, setting the wine back in the fridge.

He looks up when you carry the tea tray in, two mugs and two small tumblers of Yamazaki single malt. You laugh at him, face covered in the cocoa butter paste with only his lips and eyes visible.

“C’mere, sweetheart.”

You glance at the TV as you snuggle up to him. “ _ She’s All That? _ Wow, went really shitty tonight, did you?”

He ruffles your hair with one hand. “I think we’re both too drunk to care.”

At some point during the evening, you get up to take off your face masks. Henry does a poor job of his, and you tackle him afterwards on the sprawling corner sofa, picking off the bits of dried mask that he’s missed and kissing the bare spots, half a day’s beard tickling your cheeks, and he kisses the laughter from your lips as  _ Ten Things I Hate About You _ plays, unnoticed, in the background.

Eventually you calm down and Henry lets you do your favourite thing - use him as a mattress. You settle to his heart beating under your ear and you’re quickly lulled into a deep sleep, stirring slightly when he lifts you into his arms.

You snuggle into his broad chest. The sheer size of him makes you feel safe like nothing else has before.  _ He _ makes you feel safe like no one ever has before.

You yawn, half-awake, as he tucks the bedsheets around you.

“G’night, my darling girl,” he murmurs as he shuts off the light and spoons around you, his dressing gown left at the foot of the bed. You hear him sigh contentedly, and that sound coupled with the little creaks as the house settles around you, lull you back into a deep slumber.

  
  



End file.
